


When Sparks Fly

by bexara



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angry Boyfriends, Fight Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-17 00:50:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1367815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexara/pseuds/bexara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Eren, who was a dick one minute and so noble the next it made Jean’s teeth ache, had a compelling charisma about him that spread hope and courage like a virus. Even when everyone knew they would end up titan vomit, devoured and regurgitated just so the monsters could keep on feasting, they followed him. Jean was no exception, and it only made him angrier that he’d allowed himself to be swept along at Eren’s pace. Angry that he cared for the little prick at all.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Sparks Fly

**Author's Note:**

> So been sick, been having writer's block, all the fun things that could hit at one time. If you happen to read my other SnK fics or any of my KnB stuff and are waiting for updates, I can only apologize. I wrote this short, short story from a prompt someone gave me to help me thru the block.

If Jean ever met fate or god or whatever cosmic bastard that had created their whole screwed up existence, he planned to nail the asshole right in the balls.

As if living on a planet overrun with man-eating giants wasn’t horrific enough, this god or fate or cosmic bastard had apparently decided he, Jean Kirstein, just hadn’t been tortured sufficiently. Enter one Eren Yeager. The thorn in his side, the bane of his existence, the recent source of all his wet dreams and the cause of many a spontaneous and embarrassing boner.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, of course. It should be Mikasa fueling his nocturnal emissions and making his pants so tight he had to surreptitiously adjust the harness framing his crotch or risk revealing his humilation to all and sundry.

And it had been. For a while. His eyes had followed her silky black hair and gorgeous face around like a man half-starved for just one little piece of beauty in an otherwise bleak and dark world. At her side, though, was an unwelcome, irritating shadow. It wasn’t fair or right or the least bit acceptable to him and Jean would glare and gnash his teeth at the guy so casually occupying the space that should be his.

He’d hated Eren back then, and it came out in their every interaction, sparks flying when they got within ten feet of each other. At some point, however, and if he knew when he would find some way to go back in time and kick his younger self upside the head, his gaze was no longer trailing after Mikasa but fixed firmly on the person beside her. On eyes that were glittering gems of rage fused with hope, the color so unique and mesmerizing Jean could probably live a lifetime without ever finding its like again. On a face bullishly stubborn but somehow more attractive each time he looked at it. On the slender, toned body wrapped in golden skin, sleek and begging to be touched.

When Jean was alone, he had a proper, majestic freak out. Complete with hair tugging, silent screaming, and dropping to his knees in supplication to the sadistic fucker who thought it would be hysterical to make Jean fall for the one person he’d loathed, envied, reluctantly respected.

The one person who could never, ever have. Or so he thought. Because, let’s face it, he and Eren weren’t oil and water, they were oil and fire. One of them would start a fight, and the other would just add fuel to it, building a never-ending conflagration that ended in shouts, insults and oftentimes blows.

They didn’t see eye to eye on just about anything. Eren believed they could win, could conquer the titans and break out of the prison of walls and fear. Jean figured if they fought hard enough maybe they could just live one more day, but eventually dawn would no longer come. Not for them, not for humanity. Pipe dreams and delusions of peace had no place in the harsh reality of their lives. Eren didn’t agree.

Eren, who was a dick one minute and so noble the next it made Jean’s teeth ache, had a compelling charisma about him that spread hope and courage like a virus. Even when everyone knew they would end up titan vomit, devoured and regurgitated just so the monsters could keep on feasting, they followed him. Jean was no exception, and it only made him angrier that he’d allowed himself to be swept along at Eren’s pace. Angry that he cared for the little prick at all.

Feelings of resentment and confusion and desire simmered inside him, roiling and festering until he was either going to explode or go stark raving mad. Especially now that they were under one roof again, sharing a room as they waited for their next orders. If he ever found out who was responsible for their room assignment, he just might be arrested for murder.

The nights were the worse. Eren, the thoughtless asshole, stripped down to his underwear, flopping onto his bed and easily drifting off, unaware of his roommate’s agony. Jean lay there wide awake, hands fisted and jaw clenched tight, listening to the soft sound of Eren’s breathing. The lone window in the room allowed a pale stream of moonlight in and the beam landed on Eren’s body (he had a habit of kicking the covers off), surrounding him like a freaking halo and exposing every curve and angle and dip to Jean’s hungry gaze.

He discovered how far gone he was one night when he was suddenly up and standing beside Eren’s bed, staring down at the other man with no recollection of how he got there. Something had to give.

It did.

Two days later, he went back to the room after breakfast to change his shirt. Connie had been messing with Sasha and he’d been caught in the crossfire, innocently walking by when he abruptly had a chest full of oatmeal. After reaming the pair a new one, he’d stomped upstairs, ripping the shirt off before he even stepped inside. He didn’t notice Eren, not at first. Only after he’d let the shirt drop uncaringly to the floor did he realize he was not alone.

“Jean! Don’t just toss that there. Put it with the rest of the dirty laundry.” Eren slithered out from under the bed, a white kerchief tied around his head and a feather duster in one hand. That Jean found Eren unbearably adorable like that was more evidence of the insidious insanity slowly consuming him.

When he didn’t answer, Eren came forward, a dark look on his face as he reached down and scooped the shirt. “Don’t ignore me, asshole.” He thrust the shirt out and the edges of his knuckles brushed the bare skin of Jean’s chest.

With a hiss, Jean flinched back. That one little touch had set off tiny bombs of pleasure along every nerve ending in his body and his dick was starting to pay attention. _Shit!_

Something like hurt flashed through Eren’s eyes so fast Jean thought his own eyes were playing tricks on him, then the familiar angry expression washed across Eren’s face.

“Take the damn shirt. And you didn’t make your bed again this morning either. Stop being such a fucking slob all the time.”

The rope binding Jean’s temper and reason began to fray. “And I’ve told you before, Yeager, you aren’t my mother.” Hot maliciousness, fueled by unslaked lust, drove him toward his bed where, with a nasty smirk, he deliberately grabbed the sheet Eren had painstakingly straightened before he got there and gave a vicious twist of his wrist. The sheet flew backward, wrinkling and sliding nearly off the bunk.

Outraged and enraged, Eren snarled a low-pitched “Bastard” and launched himself at Jean. They went down, hard, Eren’s lighter weight riding him to the floor. The fraying rope inside Jean snapped completely. Pushing up to his hands and knees, he bucked up, throwing Eren from his back. Eren’s butt had barely touched the ground before Jean was on him, pulling the other man into a headlock. Fingers scratched and stabbed at his arm, but he held fast. Until Eren switched tactics and rammed a sharp elbow right into his midsection.

The pain blurred his vision and his grip instantly loosened. Eren scrambled to his feet. He was the stronger of the two of them, the better hand-to-hand figher, but adrenaline and need and the urge to turn Eren over and pound into him gave Jean the edge. Blinking away the pain, he lunged, snagging Eren around the waist and jerking him back down, twisting so Eren ended up on his belly.

Eren, however, wasn’t so easily defeated.

“You son of a bitch!” His breath tore out of him in uneven pants as his hand curled into a talon and swiped back, nails catching Jean across the jaw.

Jean’s fingers reflexively went to the stinging wound and came away tinged with blood. Eren took advantage of his momentary distraction to lurch up. He didn’t get far. Jean grabbed Eren’s ankle with his blood-stained fingers and jerked, pulling him back. Eren allowed it, only to rear up the other leg and kick Jean in the chest.

He wheezed, let go. Caught Eren’s ankle again before he could get away. Eren kept kicking with his free leg, and Jean kept dodging. After six unsuccessful attempts, Jean captured that ankle, too. He now had control of Eren’s legs and he put it to good use, flipping Eren to his back and dragging the other man toward him.

Eren’s hands clawed at the floor, trying to slow his progress or looking for something to throw at Jean, maybe both. It was futile. Jean kept drawing him forward until their bodies collided. Eren’s eyes widened as Jean fell on top of him and his hands shot up to yank at Jean’s hair. Jean just let his weight sink into Eren, pressing him into the floor. He seized Eren’s arms, intending to pull those tearing hands away, but his arousal brushed against Eren’s crotch and they both froze.

Their eyes met. Eren’s blazed up at him. He knew his own were hot with fury and passion. They were both breathing hard, and the combined sound of their hearbeats thundered in the otherwise silent room. Tension,  so thick it would take one of their blades to cut it away, stretched between them.

Then it happened. Eren’s body hardened under his, the unmistakable swell of an erection pushing up into his.

Flushed, panting, angry, Eren glared back at him. “It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a physical reaction to stimulation.”

Jean would have believed that if, as his head lowered toward Eren’s without his permission, the fingers in his hair hadn’t been suddenly tugging him closer.

It was certainly Eren who opened his mouth and allowed Jean to slip inside, allowed Jean to taste him for the first time. His hands left Eren’s wrists and one grabbed Eren’s jaw, angling his head so Jean could sink deeper into his mouth. Eren responded to that aggression with his own, thrusting his tongue between Jean’s lips.

They kissed like they were about to be sent out on a suicide run outside the walls and this was their last meal before dying. Biting and sucking, drinking and nipping at each other’s mouths with a fiery assault that bordered on desperation. If Jean had the ability to actually think, he might stop to wonder at that the fact that Eren fucking Yeager was under him, aroused for him, kissing him back with such heat he was on the edge of coming in his pants. However, his brain was firmly entrenched in his cock at the moment and any sort of actual thought was beyond him.

When they broke apart, his lungs were so starved for air Jean was afraid there wasn’t enough of it in that small, cramped room to keep him alive. Eren seemed to be having the same problem, his chest heaving as he sucked in noisy breath after noisy breath.

“What the hell is this?” Eren’s voice was hoarse.

“Fuck if I know.” Jean’s didn’t sound much better.

Eren’s mouth was wet and bruised and when he saw Jean’s eyes focused there, his tongue slipped out to lick along the bottom lip. Maybe he did it unconsciously, maybe it was on purpose. It didn’t matter. That tiny, seductive action spurred Jean into crushing their mouths together again.

One hand pushed Eren’s shirt up and the other fumbled with his pants, unfastening them just enough to allow Jean to shove his fingers inside. A low, sensual moan filled the room as his hand met hard, silken flesh and Jean realized it came from Eren. The sound tugged at his own dick and he pressed it hard against the inside of Eren’s thigh. 

He wasn’t sure if it was him or Eren or a combination of them both, but somehow they managed to rid Eren of his clothes and Jean of his pants. Eren’s golden body was damp with perspiration and his light brown nipples stabbed up into the air. Jean did what he had wanted to since the first time he’d seen Eren’s naked chest and realized the feeling twisting in his gut from the sight was lust; he took one between his fingers and the other between his teeth.

Eren jerked so violently he nearly threw Jean off, but a quick glance at his face revealed it was pleasure not disgust he was feeling. Emboldened, Jean sucked hard. His fingers weren’t still, either, rolling and massaging the taut peak. Eren cried out and lifted one hand to his mouth, trying to stifle the sound.

“That could be bad,” Jean rasped, stopping what he was doing to grab Eren’s hand. While Jean had always had mixed feelings about Eren’s other side, he definitely didn’t want a titan sprouting beneath him in the middle of sex.

Yes, they were going to have sex. All the longing and frustration and self-recriminations he’d experienced since coming to term with his feelings wouldn’t let him back away from this. From Eren.

Groaning, Eren nodded and stretched his arms above his head, letting them fall together like they were bound. The image of Eren tied up and begging for him speared through Jean’s mind and a soundless “ _Fuck_ ” formed on his lips. He really didn’t need any more provocation.

Jean took a deep breath to steady himself, but Eren’s cock was hot and hard pressing into his hip. He’d touched it before, but he hadn’t seen it. Now he wanted to.

Easing up, Jean looked down Eren’s body. His stomach was flat, the faintest hint of silky brown hair trailing from his navel to his groin. For some reason, Jean found the hollow of his hip sexy as fuck and was unable to stop his hands from wandering there to caress the smooth dip. But his eyes were drawn to the swollen, curved shaft jutting up between Eren’s thighs.

He shouldn’t be so fascinated. He had the same equipment, though his was longer and wider (not that he liked to brag or anything). Still, it wasn’t quite the same. His had been cut when he was a baby, a somewhat antiquated practice but one that many still adhered to. Eren wasn’t. Folds of skin bunched around the tip. Hypnotized, Jean trailed a hand from Eren’s hip to his cock. Even here Eren’s skin was burnished, so it wasn’t a tan from being in the sun but that rich tawny was his natural color. Wrapping his fingers around Eren’s erection, Jean pushed them down and then up, riveted by the sight of that golden skin sliding up over the already drooling tip.

An unbidden impulse had his head bending. He licked the extra flap of skin, a feeling of dark satisfaction running through him when Eren jumped and hissed out a curse. Jean should be freaked out about what he was doing, and maybe later he’d have a meltdown, but right now he was absorbed in Eren’s salty flavor and musky scent.

On instinct, he dipped his tongue inside the foreskin he still had pushed up, running it under the edge. Eren writhed again, fingers flailing out to tangle in Jean’s hair. It hurt and he squeezed Eren’s cock in retaliation.

“Ow!” Eren lifted his head to glare down at Jean.

“Well quit pulling my hair,” Jean glared right back.

Eren’s scowl faded and he bit his lip. “I couldn’t help it, it felt—”

“—good?” Jean smirked at him. Eren flushed, unable to look him in the eye. That was all the answer he needed.

Easing his grip, he drew his hand back down, letting the foreskin fall back in place, and slid his mouth completely over the tip. Jean heard Eren’s head thunk back against the floor but he didn’t look, focusing on breathing through his nose and trying not to think about the fact that he had another guy’s dick in his mouth and was enjoying it. And not just anyone’s dick but _Eren’s_.

He went slow, getting used to the feel and texture, sinking down as far as he comfortably could before he started to suck. Eren moaned so he figured he was doing something right. Not like he had a lot of experience with this, well not on the giving end anyway. With the world the way it was, finding someone to share a bit of warmth and pleasure wasn’t hard because the need to forget everything, even if it was just during a quick screw in a dank corner somewhere, was enough for some people. He’d been no different.

Shaking of those morose thoughts, he instead tried to do to Eren what he’d liked done to him. Dragging his tongue up the side, he lapped at the spot right underneath the head. His hand moved with his mouth, pumping up and down each time he bobbed his head. Eren’s hips shook, rocking into him. It was exciting, having Eren react to him like this. He felt his own dick pulse, sadly neglected and unbearably hard, and he reached down to touch it while his cheeks hollowed in and out, pulling Eren deep into his mouth.

The noises it made were lewd, all that wet slurping. Eren’s moans and ragged breathing, his mouth sounding Jean’s name in hiccupping whispers. Pre-cum was weeping like crazy from the tip, and the sticky, bitter fluid coated his lips and tongue. It was all just so fucking erotic.

Minutes later, Eren’s hands were back in his hair, tugging insistently but not painfully.

“Jean …” Eren mewled

Jean lifted his head, seeking out Eren’s dazed blue-green eyes. The look in them let him know what Eren was trying to communicate.

“Going to come?” Jean tried to sound cocky but his voice came out raw and needy.

Eren jerked his head in affirmation, unable or unwilling to let the words pass his lips.

Since getting a mouthful of spunk was probably too high a hurdle for him to handle the first time he ever sucked cock, Jean uncurled his body and laid it back on top of Eren’s.

A hint of deviltry made him kiss Eren, rubbing his cum-covered lips over the other man’s as his tongue swept inside and shared the tart flavor. Strong hands pushed against his chest and he drew back, grinning evilly when Eren wiped his mouth with the back of his arm.

“That’s disgusting.”

“That’s yourself you’re tasting, dumbshit.”

He got a baleful look and a curt “Fuck you!” in response. His smile widened.

“That’s the plan.” Jean let that statement hang between them, enjoying the range of emotions sweeping over Eren’s too-damn attractive face. “But not today,” he finally concluded. “We don’t have the preparations or the time. We’ll have to settle for this.”

“This” was him grabbing Eren’s thighs and pushing them apart as wide as they would go. Which was pretty freaking wide. The guy was flexible as hell, and Jean tucked that knowledge away for a later date. He was taller than Eren, but not by much. With just a little maneuvering, he lined their cocks together. Eren was still wet from Jean’s mouth so when he started moving, their erections easily slid against one another.

Hunching his back a little, Jean rested his forehead on the bend between Eren’s neck and shoulder, rolling his hips in a smooth, steady movement that went to hell when Eren’s nails, the same ones that had scratched the shit out of his face earlier, raked down his back.

Biting off a curse, he picked up speed, thrusting helplessly into Eren, feeling Eren rock with him.

Eren came first, primed from Jean’s oral ministrations, shaking and crying as his cock erupted between them. He was so beautiful and _alive_ like that Jean came almost immediately after, closing his mouth over the muscle in Eren’s shoulder to muffle his shout of pleasure as he climaxed all over Eren’s belly.

He didn’t move for several minutes, couldn’t move actually, orgasm having left him drained and dazed. When he finally had the energy to rouse, he lifted up, and had to peel his body off Eren’s, their combined fluids having nearly glued their skin together. He made the mistake of looking down and the sight of Eren sprawled out, flushed and panting and covered in both of their cum had the low burn of arousal churning in his stomach once more. _Shit!_ He needed help.

Averting his eyes, he stood up on wobbly legs and grabbed the soiled shirt from breakfast. Quickly wiping himself off, he tossed it on Eren who still hadn’t moved.

“Ah you should use that to um clean up.”

It was suddenly awkward. Eren seemed to think so too because he sat up and turned away as he used the shirt to remove all traces of their activity. Neither spoke for what seemed like an eternity, and then Eren was the first to break the silence just as Jean was shrugging back into his pants.

“Jean, do you like me?”

The question slammed into him and he hunched his shoulders. Denial was on the tip of his tongue but it hit him that Eren’s voice had sounded unusually subdued. Jean struggled with himself for a moment before spinning around to face Eren.

“You … yeah I do. So what? It doesn’t change the fact that you make me want to kick your ass at least ten times a day.” His gaze clashed with Eren’s and he lifted his chin belligerently. “And you must have the hots for me, too, or you wouldn’t have let me do that.”

To his surprise Eren nodded slowly. “I think, I think yeah maybe I do. Though,”a small smile curved the edges of his mouth as he stood up and began searching for his own clothes, “it doesn’t change the fact that you make me want to kick your ass at least ten times a day.”

A laugh was startled out of Jean at Eren echoing his previous statement. He immediately sobered.

“So, where does this leave us?”

Eren found his clothes and slipped into them. “I guess we see what happens?”

Okay. That was good. He could deal with that. Eren wasn’t rejecting him outright.

“Right then we just—”

“—don’t tell Mikasa,” Eren finished for him, somehow reading his mind. Jean didn’t know if that was a good thing or not but he inclined his head.

“Right.”

They shared a look of understanding. Jean went to the chest with his clothes and rummaged for a clean shirt. When he turned back, Eren was gone, along with Jean’s dirty shirt. That was okay. Jean knew where to find him.

Pulling the garment over his head, he headed for the door but hesitated before exiting the room. He looked back and, when he finally left the room a few minutes later, the sheets on his bed were immaculately tucked in.

 

 

 

 


End file.
